November 11, 2011 by 34th Street Magazine

November 17, 2011 34st.com

Thursday

NIGHT

live at Bob and Barbara's

CULTURAL ELITE • CULTURAL ELITE • CULTURAL ELITE

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

11.17.11 Inside: PAGE 5

PAGE 15

3 highbrow

Scene–y seniors. Cultural elite class of 2012.

4 EGo

Phallus appreciation. EGos of the week: the big men on campus.

5 FOOD & DRINK Yum from a truck. drexel food trucks.

6 Film

I'm not a player, I just crush a lot. celebrity crushes, the descendants review, guilty pleasure.

8 FEATURE

PBR and drag queens. Bob and barbara's bar.

10 MUSIC

Everyone's favorite Canadian Jewish rapper. drake review, beats on the street, one track mind, musical notes.

12 ARTS

Ryan's pad is rad. Natural curiosities review, artist profile: quintin marcus, diy bookends, cribz contest winner.

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

14 LOWBROW

RIHANNA'S NEW VIDEO SPEAKS TO ME.

FROMTHEEDITOR

Rather than use this space as a letter, I’m going to make you a list. If you remember from a few weeks ago (for the three people who read these beside my beloved Mom and Dad), organized girls fucking love lists. I am, in fact, an organized girl. So here’s my list for today. It's called… 20 Reasons Why You are Culturally Elite Note: The word ‘I’ can be replaced by any of your names. Because, well, I'm not the only one who feels this way. 1. I have not stopped hearing your name since I stepped foot on this campus. 2. Your slutty pictures always pop up in my news feed. 3. I love you. 4. I hate you. 5. I want to be you. 6. You deserve credit for all the cool things you’ve done at Penn. 7. But not too much credit. 8. You will be wildly successful in 5 years. 9. I will resent you because of that. 10. Some day there will be a Penn dorm

named after you. 11. My kids will force me to get them a doctor’s note so they don’t have to live in said dorm. 12. You were involved in a hazing scandal. GAWDFABID. 13. Your name will live in infamy! 14. You let them eat cake. 15. I’m curious to see what your kids will look like and want to remember your name in order to find out. 16. I want your accent. 17. You peaked freshman year. 18. You should audition for an MTV reality show. 19. Puns. 20. You're only picking this issue up to see if you're Culturally Elite (p. 3).

Street your heart out,

Come here, you. We have juice boxes and Tastykakes. It's like kindergarten... but with beer.

Gobble my wigwam. giving thanks, top ten thanksgiving pick–up lines, rant of the week + rebuttal.

STREET Writers Meeting 6:30 p.m. TONIGHT 4015 Walnut St.

16 back page

It's that time of the year — SHOUTOUTS! Classic shoutouts illustrated.

34th Street Magazine Jessica Goodman, Editor–in–Chief Nick Stergiopoulos, Managing Editor Frida Garza, Design Editor Kendall Haupt, Online Managing Editor Joshua Goldman, Feature Tucker Johns, Feature Paige Rubin, Highbrow Stephanie Rice, A Little Less Highbrow Faryn Pearl, Ego Leah Steinberg, Ego Mady Glickman, Food & Drink Nina Wolpow, Food & Drink

Sam Brodey, Music Jake Spinowitz, Music Hilary Miller, Film Shelby Rachleff, Film Ellie Levitt, Arts Megan Ruben, Arts Anthony Khaykin, Lowbrow Sandra Rubinchik, Lowbrow Will Baskin–Gerwitz, Back Page Alex Hosenball, Copy Alexandra Jaffe, Copy Adrian Franco, Photo

UnderTheButton.com

Morgan Finkelstein, Managing Editor Michael Arnstein, Associate Editor Ian Bussard, Associate Editor Monika Knapp, Associate Editor Lora Rosenblum, Associate Editor Sandra Rubinchik, Associate Editor AJ Thomas, Associate Editor Cover design: frida garza

Contributors: Dawn Androphy, Eillie Anzilotti, Ben Bernstein, Gwendolyn Lewis, Emily Orrson, Lauren Reed–Guy, Zeke Sexauer, Sarah Tse

Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Jessica Goodman, Editor-–in–Chief, at goodman@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 8986585. To place an ad, call (215) 898-6581. Visit our web site: www.34st.com "Tucker, the last thing you need is another cashmere hooded sweater." "They'll never tell. Little girls have low self–esteem." ©2011 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a-okay.) All rights reserved. 34th Street Magazine is published by The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc., 4015 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa., 19104, every Thursday.

HIGHBROW CULTURALELITE All the seniors worth knowing… and some you wish you didn't.

Rachel Abeles: This LI native rules the Greek world with a Skinny Girl Margarita in one hand and a Little Brown Bag in the other. Gabby Abrishamian–Garcia: Don’t be fooled by her innocent charm… this Funk master will woop you on the dance floor any day of the week. Ava Amarosa: Since her relationship with another elitist ended, this TriDelt has certainly earned her Asylum residency. Jae Barchus: Good to know this MGC president thinks branding is a "team building activity." Rob Belcore: Hoops player by day, Blarney bouncer by night, he loves to rep his hard–knock high school days in Chicago. But it's a shame he's best known for being Zack's number two. David Berliner: This Buck Claytons Silk City drummer is a true elite among his elitist Theos bros. Cindy Berman: If number of pre–college Penn ‘12 Facebook friends is an indicator of social prestige, then her popularity would be off the chart!

Nicole Callimanis: She's the most bad–ass chick around, but we wish this Mortar Board would stop teasing the boys. Ariel Choi: Everything about this Mortar Board, Smoke’s bartender, and DAC chair packs a punch: her drinks, her dances and especially her fists. Ishika Das: She's a Dubai babe with a British accent who can make any Management 100 student swoon.

Chelsea Drumheller: Her train wreck performance on The Real World D.C. secured this TriDelt a spot on our list. Neil Dubey: The PiKapp Pennquest leader won the hearts of the BMOC judges. Twice. Kaya Ensor: This Tabard’s impeccable style and effortless charm may win her many fans, but that sad excuse for an English accent isn’t fooling anyone.

Allie Greenberg: Under the bangs, racy pics and blackface Halloween costume there’s just another Long Island high school valedictorian. We think

Ursula Lopez–Palm: Now that her soccer career has come to an end, you’ll probably find this AXO stealing the show at Blarney’s Sunday Funday.

be the quintessential A’s boy: blond, waspy and jort–prone… until you realize that he’s actually nice… and went to public school (gasp)!

Michael Hartman: Let's be honest: this PhiDelt made the list because of his adorable pup.

Katie McCabe: When this Sphinge isn’t chairing CHAC, reforming inner–city schools or tossing frisbees around with Venus… well, does she have time for anything else?

Olivia Stolt–Nielsen Holten: Has anyone ever seen this TriDelt shipping heiress smile? We wouldn't have minded if she had prolonged her time in Paris indefinitely.

Michael McClung and Dennis Zdonov: As freshmen, the Beta duo bought the biggest room in the quad. We guess we would too if one of us owned Siberia.

Victoria Strickland: This track and field captain runs train. When she isn’t breaking records, you’ll probably find her working the room at Smoke's.

Nick Henderson: This Kappa can step his way into our hearts any day. Harry Heyer: We'd rather donate to S4TP than go to the shooting range with this IFC prez.

Tyler Ernst: From the prez of the gays to the prez of the UA, this Sphinge likes to play the piano and watch French films. Sound like a hazer to you?

Meg Hlousek: If her position as the chair of the PCUW doesn’t convince you of this Sphinge’s commitment to gender issues, her feminist power tattoo will.

Triston Francis: We're devastated this Friar turned us down for Ego of the Week, but the invitation is still open. ;-)

John Humiston: With his skinny jeans and leather jacket, this Elmo stud has the stank stare to put even the cockiest snob in their place.

Alex Friedlander: The Castle trustafarian rocks out in Off the Beat and Red Giants, but his dreadlocks require more maintenance than they're worth.

Sammy Husband: The hottest dudes on campus get on swimmingly with this blonde AXO from Minnesota. Because she’s dated them all.

Jenny Friedman: This hyster Theta has her own lingo and some epic FB albums. She's def Exec, even though some of her Halloween costumes have been a little BL.

Mansi Jain: She's a Wharton queen and browntown royalty with an alter ego decked in sparkles and glow sticks.

Victor Galli: He's a self–proclaimed “Madame” of the gays with a penchant for high heels. Strike a pose. No, try a different one this time. Jenny Glazer: This AXO has marked her territory at many frat houses. JP Grant: We don't care that he never made an impact on the football field because this defensive back will leave a lasting legacy as the leader of the Delts.

Jibran Khan: Our President certainly loves to rage, but his party–boy antics at Hey Day didn't win him too many friends on class board. Joe Lawless: Is anywhere on campus Lawless–less? From the Quad to the Women's Center. this do–it–all's got major opinions. About everything. Jake Levin: This Penn soccer star, Friar and social butterfly is a smooth talker. Must be why he’s hooked up with almost every girl on campus.

Kelly Newman: Tap House is cool and all, but invite us to one more event and we might have to punt your dog. Adam Ortega: Unst unst unst. It's DJ Tega. Bitch. Sam Perelman: We heard she took her 20 closest friends to Vegas for her birthday. Sam, you're cordially invited to our writers meetings. Just don't scare away the freshmen. Michael Picasso: Shirtless and single, this Beta brah always has the best time at the party — and wants everyone to know it. Jason Rasmussen: Jorts. Budweiser. Football. AMURRICA. Andrew Roberts: Have you heard this Omega is family friends with Kenn Kweder? So have we. Zack Rosen: Ginger. Jew. Star basketball player. One of these things is not like the other. Jordan Sale: Don't let this Panhel Princess's LA roots fool you. She actually has a soul. Emily Shaeffer: We thought you were in every club on campus, but we can't find you! Are you hiding? (Cultural delete.) Chip Stine: He appears to

Jais Tollette: She was friends with everyone. Until she joined Theta. Cristina Virgilio: This Zeta prez wastes spends her time baking 'Beta bites.' Maybe she's nostalgic for her days living in the Meatshack. Ewwwww. Jeff Walton: As a Wigger, i– banker, hipster combo, this guy should be having an identity crisis, but instead he’s just adorable. Tony Wang: He’s post–Wharton, his blog is post.fashionism and when he’s not playing video games he's schmoozing with the fashion elite. Liz Wessel: This Theta Penntrepreneur's skills include a stellar tolerance and a habit of nip–slips. Did you hear she founded PennEats? Sorry. We meant UniEats. Taylor Williams: Did you know this boat shoe aficionado was working at Goldman Sachs? Yeah, so did we. Lauren Yates: We have the biggest crush on this Excelano bombshell. Her cat–eye glasses don't hurt either. Allison Zuckerman: Talented artist? Check. Music festival regular? Check. Dated everyone in Fat Panther? Almost check.

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

Erin Brennan: Even when she's recovering from a grog– filled night, this girls lax captain is a star on the field.

Alexa De Pasquales: We'd like to talk about lexyd.com, but we're afraid she'll beat us up.

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

EGO

egoof the week: the big men on campus

No lack of self–esteem here! The boys of AXO's annual Big Man On Campus philanthropy event basically talk about their penises and other concerns.

and the winner is…

Visit 34st.com to watch them shake their butts in slow motion.

Top, left to right: Nick Henderson, John Hurley, Wyatt Hilkene, Kevin Kennedy, Peter Amos Bottom, left to right: Sam Berger, Neil Dubey, Sam Schear, Jake Levin

NEIL DUBEY!!! Street: How does it feel to win? Neil Dubey: It feels really great! To me, being BMOC proves that you can be your own person and not conform to what you think other people want. Dance like no one's watching!

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

Street: What's the first think you're going to do after winning? NB: Probably wear deeper Vs.

Street: What makes a true BMOC? Sam Schear: BMOC’s a state of mind. It’s a lifestyle. Sam Berger: A lot of weight fluctuations. Kevin Kennedy: None of which are healthy. SS: Lettuce by day, celery by night. Neil Dubey: Hard–working. Alpha male. Jackhammer. Merciless. Insatiable. Jake Levin: It’s not about the size of the boat, but the motion of the ocean. Nick Henderson: Pelvic thrusting. Street: What are you afraid of? JL: I’m afraid of spending one more day as a C–List celebrity on campus. I’m also afraid of those days when I forget to use deodorant. Then I smell like the ball pit at a McDonald's play place. ND: Sam Schear’s chest.

SS: Balding. Measurements of any kind. Street: Why are you going to win? ND: Two words: Bolly. Wood. JL: I called Miss Cleo and she felt in her soul that I would… need to pay another $9.99 to find out. Peter Hobson: Am I going to win? SS: Bad lighting and a sympathetic crowd… and I'm in Theos! Street: How did you prepare for the competition? ND: Copious amounts of Adderall and cocaine. NH: Slimfast. A lot of Slimfast for me. SB: Looking at myself in the mirror and not liking what I see. John Hurley: I hate it. But I love it.

Street: What’s your secret weapon in the competition? JH: Semen. SB: Semen, then feathers. For the group dance. ND: Not stuffing my crotch. Derek Vigoa: Emergency waxing sesh. SS: Experience in women's clothing. Jewish Guilt. Oh, and socks, a lot of socks. JL: Nice try, but my secret weapon will be released on November 16th. Street: Who’s the best dancer? Alex Friedlander: Schear gives great lap dances, it’s unbeatable. Street: What’s your latest discovery? SS: That there’s a tanning salon on Drexel’s campus you can go to without being caught.

JL: Saying you’re the biggest man on campus can be interpreted in really awesome ways. Thanks, AXO. PH: Apparently Cs can still get degrees at this school… and I get Cs. Peter Amos: My feminine side. Street: What’s the best kept secret at Penn? SS: I’ll go ahead and say the dental library. JL: If you wear a suit to class, you can leave early. Just say you have an interview. Street: If you win the title, how will it affect your life? ND: I’m going to make tons of sex videos and have them leaked. SB: A few people will like me more, but most people will just resent me.

Street: Who’s the front runner right now? PA: I’ll take that one. Street: Who’s going to lose? JL: Can we say the audience?

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FOOD&DRINK

Check 34st.com for a DRINK of the Week face–off between Drexel and Penn.

Food Trucks: Dragon Style How Drexel does lunch on its side of UCity.

GUL’S

Photo by Sarah Tse

36th & Market streets

Photo by Adrian Franco

30th and Market streets

Denise’s Soul Food promises comfort the Caribbean way. The menu is concise: jerk chicken, oxtail, fried chicken and stew accompanied by classic sides like mac and cheese, potato salad, greens and cornbread. Though the truck's flashy pink and white exterior, courtesy of the Mural Arts Program, may suggest otherwise, the grub here is understated. Denise’s delivers on its promise: delicious and homey comfort food with a kick. The staple jerk chicken was succulent, each bite loaded with tantalizing spice. The small platter ($7) comes with two sides. The powerful flavor of the jerk chicken and the mild cheesiness of mac and cheese was a perfect balance, and my second side, candied yams, offered sweetness. The yams were perfectly cooked and deliciously sticky, perhaps too sweet for some. But if you crave more sugar, Denise’s classic desserts, peach cobbler ($3) or apple pie ($1.50) should do the trick. Be prepared to leave in a mild food coma, stuffed and incredibly satisfied; the walk to and from the truck might help with that extra side of cornbread. —Alexandra Jaffe

CHEWY'S

Photo by Sarah Tse

CUCINA ZAPATA GUAPOS TACOS

Photo by Adrian Franco

Photo by Will Baskin–Gerwitz

Market between 34th and 36th St.

31st & Ludlow streets

Market between 34th and 36th St.

If you’re looking for a decent burger on Penn’s campus, your options are slimmer than an undercooked Commons patty. Sure, we have Bobby’s vaunted Palace, but the overpriced offerings there are hardly royal. What’s a burger–seeker to do? Head over to Drexel's beef–friendly neighborhood: Chewy’s Burger Truck is a treat worth the journey. We arrived just as Chewy's affable operators were packing up. Given the richness of their menu — BLTs, breakfast sandwiches, fries and a wide array of toppings — I was nervous we’d missed out. Fortunately, what they had “left over” was absolutely delicious — cheeseburgers, accompanied by chipotle mayonnaise and kimchi. The burger patty itself was substantial but didn't weigh down the toasted sesame bun, which remained fluffy. My friends praised the beef effusively: it was flavorful, juicy and cooked to a perfect medium–rare. The use of kimchi added tangy flavor and crisp texture. Combine that with a generous helping of sublime shoestring, skin– on fries and for $8.50 you’ve got yourself a nearly flawless lunch. —Sam Brodey

Cucina Zapata serves up an inventive blend of Mexican and Asian flavors from a brightly graffitied truck. Here, Robert Zapata cheerfully takes orders and makes drinks, like the Thai Iced Tea ($2), an authentically sweet mix of black tea, condensed milk and half– and–half. Food–wise, the chicken katsu with egg offers the most bang for your buck. $5.50 gets you a golden fried chicken breast doused in katsu sauce atop a crunchy salad, runny egg and a generous portion of rice. The chicken was expertly fried, and the tangy sauce was strong but not overpowering. Both the short rib and chicken satay tacos (1 for $3, 2 for $6 and 3 for $8) blended Asian and Mexican flavors perfectly, the tender pieces of meet playing off the creamy avocado and crunchy slaw. The Mexican veggie burger’s ($4.50) spicy patty drew raves, and the daily curry special (prices vary) is popular too. The menu is relatively small, but it offers surprising variety, and it's all good. Cucina Zapata is only open for lunch on weekdays. Try to arrive early; they run out of certain items occasionally. Despite similarity to Tyson Bee's, Cucina Zapata promises better flavors and bigger portions. —Tucker Johns

Penn's taco lovers and homesick Texans alike, listen up — if you want a good taco, head to Drexel. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Guapos Tacos, started by Jose Garces of Distrito and JG Domestic, is there for you. Guapos offers everything from tamales to tortilla soup to tostadas, but their claim to fame is their taco creations. I tried the chipotle short rib (2 for $7) and the pescado (2 for $8). On a corn tortilla, the chipotle braised short rib taco is a tiny mountain of flavor, complete with black beans, crema, queso fresco and crisp radishes. The crema and queso fresco add lightness to the savory beef and, despite the small size of the tortilla, the taco satiates. The pescado's crispy Mahi Mahi isn’t as heavy as the juicy short rib, but it's every bit as delicious. This taco comes with chipotle remoulade, avocado puree, pickled red cabbage and fresh salsa on a flour tortilla — Guapos salsas are homemade. While you won’t find your traditional carne asada taco at Guapos, you will get unique twists on old favorites and sizeable portions. Come with an open mind and a big appetite. —Frida Garza

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

A good sandwich can do wonders for the student on a budget. On Penn’s campus, we rely on trucks like Bui’s, Lynn’s and Hemo’s for this delicious fix; unfortunately, though, prices at Bui’s have gone on the rise in the past few months, and Hemo’s wasn’t the best deal to begin with. Cue Gul’s Breakfast & Lunch Cart, an almost– generic sandwich truck that stands out via its price and quality. Gul’s doesn’t serve pork, so customers can either get turkey or beef bacon instead, and neither detracts from the sandwich. We ordered a bacon, egg and cheese for an astounding $2.50 and the grilled chicken sandwich with lettuce, tomatoes, cheese and honey mustard on pita ($3.50), which Gul's recommended. The breakfast sandwich was similar to Lynn’s, complemented by sriracha but sadly lacking in crunchy bread or particularly crispy bacon. We didn’t miss the pork at all. The chicken was moist, light and flavorful, but the portion was perhaps too small for lunch. The low prices, nonetheless, make Gul’s a great stop for discount dining at Drexel. —Alex Hosenball

DENISE’S SOUL FOOD TRUCK

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FILM

LOVE ME, LOVE ME NOT We all have that one special person who gives us the jitters. That guy who bought us a drink last Tuesday at Smoke's. The girl who studies in Annenberg on Tuesdays at 2 and eats at Magic Carpet on Mondays at 12 and lives on the corner of 41st and Spruce — not that we know. But for many, stars of the big screen manage to take our breath away and fill those lonely Friday nights. Film caught up with a few big names on campus and asked them about their celebrity crushes. Check out 34st.com for the rest of the responses.

Jessica Dignam

Head of Quadramics Crush: Anton Yelchin When I fell in love: Like Crazy Why I'm head over heels: I mean… you’ve got to love that hair. Would it work out: Totally. If he’s anything like he is in the movies, he’s a total romantic. Your ideal evening together: Gazing into each others’ eyes without speaking a single word. Okay, now I’m just pretending I was in Like Crazy… What he would love about me: My strong personality. He looks like a little puppy that just needs some love and guidance. What he would do at Penn: He would absolutely work at the Kelly Writers House. And he’d probably do some weird, experimental theater with iNtuitons. But I’d make him work on every Q show.

Sam Gorski

Head of SPEC Concerts Crush: Eva Mendes When I fell in love: Hitch, specifically the scene where she nurses Will Smith back to health after his allergic reaction to shellfish. I have a bunch of allergies and could use her help. Why I'm head over heels: She can be a bad–ass (Once Upon a Time in Mexico, 2 Fast 2 Furious) but still have a quirky, fun side (Hitch, Funny or Die’s “Eva Mendes Sex Tape”). Also the fact that she’s fairly attractive doesn’t hurt. Would it work out: Last I heard she was single, so I have a shot. But most likely no, since I can’t salsa dance for my life and my Hitch references would quickly get old (as they already have to most people). Your ideal evening together: Dinner in Old City, a concert at First Unitarian Church or Johnny Brenda’s to show my indie side and then probably a club to do some dancing. What she would love about me: My attempts to be smooth and subsequent comedic failure at doing so. What she would do at Penn: SPEC Film Society, La Casa Latina, MERT and Penn Sailing (because she’d have some random talent like that).

hummus grill

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

make it a feast!

UA President Crush: Young Brad Pitt (or Brad Pitt without all this goatee nonsense) When I fell in love: Fight Club Why I'm head over heels: I wouldn’t say it’s for the most profound of reasons… that said, the humble roots in Oklahoma and the first job as the “el Pollo Loco” chicken would make for interesting conversation. Also, I’d be curious to learn why he ever thought six children would be a good idea. Would it work out: Obviously. I’m Tyler. He was Tyler Durden. It’s destiny. Your ideal evening together: Dinner, wine and a casino visit. What would he do at Penn: Most likely, I see him in BMOC and/or DZine2Show. Most ideally, he’d be a Civic House leader. I think he and Katie McCabe would make wonderful co–workers. Plus, I expect his presence would suddenly increase the sense of civic duty on campus.

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This film makes us thankful to be with our own pseudo–stable families on Thanksgiving. Who knew being a Clooney could be so tumultuous? By HILARY MILLER DEFIBRILLATOR

The Wrong Trousers (1993)

Oh my god it's the nipple suit!

the descendAnts Directed by: Alexander Payne

Starring: George Clooney, Shailene Woodley, Amara Miller see if you liked: Sideways (2004) Rated R, 115 min.

focuses on the motley family’s efforts to inform everyone they know, and don’t, of Elizabeth’s impending death. But friends and family quickly turns into friends, family and adulterers as the Kings discover more about

the maelstrom of Elizabeth’s life outside of her home. While the subject matter is understandably heavy, the story is littered with just as many hilarious moments as sappy ones. The result is an emotional equilibrium that should become the paragon for future films. We laughed. We cried. You get it. The acting is a clear highlight of the film. Both Clooney and Woodley give outstanding performances that make their odd dynamic instantly relatable. As they be-

come closer, the audience is pulled right into their bond. It would be wrong to say that the acting carries the film, but this is only because the other elements were equally strong. From the dynamic and witty screenplay to the awe–inspiring cinematography, Payne manages to pull together yet another incredible film. Watching The Descendants, viewers are forced to question their own moral codes as they find themselves laughing at grotesque tragedy and tearing up at the happier moments, which results in a bit of discomfort. However, after considering what has been presented, it becomes clear that this polarity is what ultimately keeps us stable. If you won’t come for this Oscar–worthy film, at least come to see Clooney make a Hawaiian shirt look classy. You won’t regret it. —The Descendants opens tomorrow at the Ritz East.

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34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

When the going gets tough, I like to retreat into a parallel universe populated by clay figures with Yorkshire accents and an unmatched love of cheese and crackers. With its endearingly quirky protagonists and puns aplenty, Wallace and Gromit’s The Wrong Trousers is the perfect remedy for feeling down in the dumps — or those days when you just want to forget about adulthood for a while. There’s Wallace, an inventor who makes up for his lack of hair with an abundance of teeth, and his silent canine companion Gromit, a beagle with a passion for engineering. In The Wrong Trousers, the duo are forced to confront a sinister new lodger, a penguin who takes an interest in Wallace’s newly crafted Turbo Trousers. Along the way, tea is brewed, a cunning chicken disguise fools everyone, diamonds are in peril and a dramatic chase scene is carried out on toy trains. While most animators these days seem more interested in selling you 3–D glasses than telling stories, there’s something so refreshing about Nick Park’s claymation creations and their physics–defying inventions. So the next time you need a pick–me–up make a cup of tea, wrap yourself up in every blanket you can find and take a trip down memory lane with Wallace and Gromit. Anyone who thinks they’re too good for animated movies ought to wake up and smell the Wensleydale. —Lauren Reed–Guy

lexander Payne is finally (seven years finally, to be exact) at it again with The Descendants. This time around, his mastery is framed around two of the most beautiful things on earth: Hawaiian beaches and George Clooney. Clooney plays lawyer and Hawaiian land baron Matt King, who finds himself struggling to raise two daughters and balance his own emotions after his wife, Elizabeth, is put into a coma from a boating accident. Unfortunately for Matt, the tides are not in his favor. His youngest daughter Scottie (Miller) lashes out every chance she gets and has trouble adjusting to her new elementary school teacher. Matt’s oldest, Alex (Secret Life of The American Teenager’s Shailene Woodley), had been butting heads with her mother for years and is constantly finding trouble at her off–island boarding school. If you thought your family was dysfunctional, you may want to reconsider. The majority of the film

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PAYNE IN PARADISE

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OF THE

Thursdays at Bob and Barbara's belong to Lisa Lisa.

By Tatum Regan | Photos by adrian franco

“O

their drinks. “Now whether you’re heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, trisexual, transsexual, even ASEXUAL — we’re all here to have a good time, am I right?!” ••• Lisa Thompson. Here in a coffee shop on Ninth between South and Bainbridge, she is just Lisa. Perhaps if one of her voice students arrived, he or she would call her Ms. Thompson. If a patron of Bob and Barbara’s, the dive bar on 15th and South where Lisa performs on Thursday drag nights, happened to recognize her without the makeup and skimpy outfits, he or she might exclaim, “Hey! Miss Lisa Lisa!” But really, it’s just Lisa. Her parents had initially wanted her to keep her given name — not vehemently and not a desire born of stubborn denial. They just thought she might want to retain some of what she had at her own beginning, some sort of clear identifier to indicate where she had been and who she once was. Eventually, though, they shrugged and desisted, not only

“What is it they do here — you know on Thursdays?” “Oh yeah, the, oh hey, now, oh the drag show. “Aw yeah, the drag show!” Toward the stage — really just a wooden, mattress–sized, raised platform — a small plaque pays tribute to a different aspect of Bob and Barbara’s, an aspect equal in fame to its PBR particularity or to its House Special. The plaque is wooden, white and hand–painted with stencils: “Miss Lisa Lisa: The Girl so Nice they named Her TWICE!!!” ••• The man is clearly pretty drunk. He’s slightly older than the rest of the Thursday–night crowd, but he is oblivious to most everyone else’s presence. He, with his thinning salt–and–pepper hair and black tee–shirt, only has eyes for the drag–queen Britney Spears imitator lip–syncing to “Hit Me Baby, One More Time.” He doesn’t dance, but rather stalks. The music cannot deactivate what is clearly his predatory mode. He follows the trans– woman around, his eyes never lifting from her face or body. Eventually, he tires of his futile pacing and instead adopts a new strategy. The man shoves a few dollar bills into his mouth and circles the periphery of the stage area, desperately trying to attract faux–Britney’s attention. She successfully evades him — a number of times — even after he attempts to pull her in for a kiss, encouraging her to take the bills from his mouth with her own. The number ends. Faux– Britney retreats. Miss Lisa Lisa comes to the mic. “Oh, you bad, bad tranny chaser!” She wags a disciplinary finger at the older gentleman. He’s had too many House Specials to feel any embarrassment or remorse. ••• “Oh, I get hit on.” Lisa laughs to herself. “Men. Women, too, sometimes. And I’ll flirt, but I’m taken.” Lisa has been in a relationship with a heterosexual man for the past 18 years. He had met her and was immediately interested.

“Listen,” she’d said, pulling him aside, “I’m just not your type.” He persisted, and she gave him her number, telling him to give her a call and she would explain. He did so, as did she. Their relationship is a large part of why she chooses to remain pre– op — as in… it’s all still there. She could never even envision herself as a post–op. She notes that her identity as a pre–op transsexual is part of what her boyfriend finds attractive, not necessarily in a sexual way, but simply because it’s part of what sets her apart. It’s a special quirk belonging to Lisa Thompson that, while integral to who she is, is also, fundamentally, just not seen as being a big deal. “It’s not a sexual thing. It’s more than that. It’s emotions, it’s mental — there are a lot of other things that go into a relationship. People in general tend to put everything as a sexual thing.” And yet, Lisa discusses friends of hers that had been in relationships, some 11 years long, only to have the relationship disintegrate after undergoing surgery to become post–op. She describes it as though the remaining genitalia, a vestige of any given transsexual individual’s struggle to find a viable gender identity, holds some sort of power. As though it were simultaneously entirely inconsequential and the source of an entire personality. “You’re just not special anymore. If your boyfriend had wanted that, he would have just stuck to the standard, heterosexual lifestyle.” ••• Walking down the freestanding wooden staircase, Lisa Thompson is still Lisa. Her conservative light– green cardigan is neatly buttoned. It’s paired nicely with a sleek pair of dark–blue skinny jeans. Plaid, peep–toe, small–heeled pumps adorn what, at a second glance, seem to be abnormally large feet (for a woman, that is). But for a touch more makeup, this is the same woman that sat, not particularly noteworthy, in a coffee shop on Ninth and Bainbridge. As she descends the stairs into the dressing room, however, a slight, almost imperceptible transformation begins to take

place. Perhaps her hips start to sway a little bit more. Maybe her chin juts at a slightly higher angle. Undoubtedly, her voice adopts more of an edge, now infused with what can only be deemed “fierceness.” The diva is emerging. Which dressing station belongs to her is apparent before Lisa even seats herself. It has a full wall to itself, distinguishing it from the cramped row of stations clinging to the perpendicular wall face. The mirror above the station is the largest of the oddball assortment of hand mirrors scattered about the room, messily duct–taped to sparse walls. Taped above the mirror is a photograph of Miss Lisa Lisa, resolving any potential ambiguity as to the ownership of the dressing area. All around Miss Lisa Lisa, people flurry into motion. A transsexual named Chloe rummages through her bag to locate a cell phone. Her implants peek out from underneath the bottom of a silver–lame bikini top. Phone in hand, Chloe perches at the invisible periphery of Miss Lisa Lisa’s dressing area, pausing so as to not interrupt the combing and preening. “You got your music?” Lisa’s voice is now distinctly different than what it had been before the show. Previously mellow and warm, it now sounds almost shrill — possibly more antagonistic than formerly, definitely more intimidating. Chloe hands over her phone. As she begins to explain, Miss Lisa Lisa cuts her off, holding the phone at a distance and scrutinizing it, skepticism apparent. “Is that all gonna work? Oh, now, this had better work, Chloe.” Lisa’s head is shaking back and forth, preemptively chastising Chloe for any technical difficulties she may inadvertently cause. Her hands wave about dramatically. Chloe protests, though she doesn’t seem offended. This is nothing personal — just business. And the affectations that Miss Lisa Lisa has adopted seem to just be par for the course — all the women are acting the part. They’re all waving their hands about — a sassy finger flitting

about the face to emphasize a point, voices rising and falling and bursting, peels of laughter breaking against the general discord. And now Miss Lisa Lisa begins to change. She peels off her clothing — item by item — almost seductively. And it all comes off. A black thong remains. A man named Timmay with the stage name Gio Michaels is dressed as Liza Minelli. Liza stares, ogling as Miss Lisa disrobes. She does it in an obvious sort of way, as though it were a joke, but her stare, directed at Lisa’s breasts, belies real envy. In general, all of the women performing seem to have a preoccupation with those that they perceive to be more beautiful, more successful, more feminine drag queens and transsexuals. All of the women, that is, except Lisa. She slips on a sheer, floor length robe. It’s black and lace, with violet flowers embroidered in elegant patterns. All she wears beneath it is her thong. She steadies herself at the edge of her chair and daintily droops one leg over another to begin applying lotion. Her legs are perfectly shaven. “Honey,” Miss Lisa Lisa calls to a younger man simpering down the stairs. He perks up and dashes over. Miss Lisa Lisa extends her right foot, stretching her smooth, lotioned–up leg in the man’s direction. “Honey,” she repeats, “could you just help me get these strapped on.” She dangles a pair of strappy black stilettos in front of him. He practically crashes to his knees, exclaiming, “Of course! Of course!” The man proceeds to delicately put on Miss Lisa’s shoes — a new–age Cinderella. When he leaves, Diva Lisa realizes those were not the shoes she wanted anyway and slips on a different pair before heading upstairs. Men and women scramble in and out as the show begins. Costume changes are hung up, already prepped. A beautiful teal, mermaid–style gown with an

open back; a long–sleeved, floor– length, mesh evergreen dress, completely sheer and transparent. Wigs are strewn everywhere. Upstairs, Lisa's voice bellows, “Avert your eyes! I’m a married woman.” She pauses. “And a virgin.” Drunken laughter. ••• At the coffee shop one final time, Lisa walks in with a broad smile. Open, friendly, genuine — a smile not seen at Bob and Barbara’s. On Thursday nights, all smiles are sultry. But today, sheer, floor–length gowns have been replaced by a simple green spaghetti–strap summer dress. Lisa greets the cashier by name. He apologizes for not having been able to make it to her show on Thursday, but he’ll be sure to make it to the next. He gets her iced black tea without her having asked. “Everybody that sees me outside of Bob and Barbara’s says you’re so totally different. But Bob and Barbara’s — it’s a show. People come to be entertained, so you entertain them. Well, I’m not going to be entertaining them out in the street — that’s stupid.” She laughs. “People have to realize that this is the norm of me and

then that’s the performance.” And it’s that simple. ••• Randi Thompson was a sophomore in high school when he came up with the name Lisa. “This is what I want you to call me,” he informed his teachers and peers. “Oh. Okay,” they responded. “The name Lisa — I just like the name. I didn’t really think about it; I just woke up one day and was like, well, what do I really want to call myself? And I thought, Lisa. To me, it’s feminine and soft. I just see myself as a Lisa. When someone addresses me I don’t want them to call me Ms. Princess. If you’re going to fit into society you need the kind of name that no one would think twice about. Lisa.” Lisa Thompson still doesn’t get the fuss, though. When it comes down to it, it’s really just a name — just another identifier. “You call me whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m still the same person. But people mostly just call me Lisa.” ••• Tatum Regan is a senior in the College.

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

h, now honey, you know he’s trying to tell you something if he’s not raising up that hand real high… I’ll ask again! WHO IN HERE IS A STRAIGHT MAN?!” A roar of confirmation. The PBRs are high in the air, saluting Miss Lisa Lisa, “The Girl so Nice they named Her TWICE!!!” “Now, here we go, who in here is GAY?!” Men and women are bopping their heads to the music and lifting up

paraphernalia — it’s an obvious feature. The place is a shrine — posters, cans, bottles, clocks and even the light fixtures pay homage to the Blue Ribbon. “PBR: Blended 33 times to make One Great Beer.” “Pabst makes it perfect!” “Enjoy a ‘Cool Blue’: The BLUE RIBBON Winner!” Older advertisements are quaintly offensive, their cool, retro vibe making any casual racism or sexism more permissible. A few signs also make reference to the House Special: a can of PBR and a shot of Jim Beam, $3. This, too, is specific to Bob and Barbara’s. ••• Mr. Barney is wearing a fedora and large framed glasses. His long, khaki trench coat is draped over the back of his tall, red– upholstered bar chair. He looks sharp. He looks like a vestige of a different time. He settles in nicely with the throwback appeal of Bob and Barbara’s. “They used to be spittoons down thay. They had water runnin’ right on through. And place used to be so smoky, ya couldn’t even see the guy sittin’ right next t’ya.” Butch nods. He’s wearing a newsboy cap and small–framed glasses. He too looks sharp. He appears younger than Mr. Barney, though they’re both getting on in age. They call me “sweetheart,” “honey” or “baby” in a grandfatherly sort of way. “Mr. Barney here sho knows his history. He can tell you ‘bout all the bars they had ‘round here. Licensing and everything. He knows this neighborhood like the back a’ his hand.” Mr. Barney goes on about Bob and Barbara’s various names and owners, throwing in a few anecdotes along the way. Bob Clarke brought in all the Pabst paraphernalia — he was a collector of sorts. Named the bar after himself and his manager Barbara. Jack Prince came in after working as a bartender in Avalon — heard about the place from some girl he met and decided to buy it. He brought in the drag show, but that doesn’t interest Mr. Barney and Butch. Sometimes they come for the jazz on Sundays.

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

u e e n Q BAR

accepting but endorsing the decision. After all, everyone just calls her Lisa. She doesn’t have on any makeup. She wears a sweater and jeans and a scarf gracefully looped about her neck. Simple. A coat with orangey leopard print and slightly dingy faux fur at the collar is the only aspect of her appearance that makes any sort of grab at attention, and it’s a pretty half–hearted grab, at that. Otherwise, Lisa Thompson is understated. A pleasant, unassuming woman. And she does indeed appear to be how she presents herself — a woman. Her voice is perhaps a little bit lower than that of the average middle–aged female but certainly not unpleasantly so. One could even say that she has the perfect Hollywood–sultry timbre. She speaks deliberately and in calm and soothing tones about the goings on of her life: the voice lessons she teaches, having graduated from University of the Arts, her work at Bob and Barbara’s. Her hands are placed before her on the wobbly coffee–shop table; she uses them very little, gesturing infrequently. Occasionally she’ll flip a stray piece of hair behind her shoulder and only in those moments is there any trace of “diva” to be found. Her views regarding Bob and Barbara’s are utopian. It’s a place where anyone is welcome to a PBR, hold the judgment. No one cares how you identify yourself: straight, gay, bi, transsexual and even hipster. ••• The guy who has come to sit at the bar wears glasses — the big, black–framed sort that may or may not actually have lenses and that may or may not actually be prescription. His black, perfectly unkempt hair is haloed by a dark blue beanie. He wears plaid. His jeans are cigarette–thin. He sips a PBR. He is, in short, insufferably trendy — the textbook example of a hipster. Every night but Thursday, Bob and Barbara's is just a typical, low–key bar filled with similarly dressed patrons. His name is Frank, and Frank seems nice. He has an easy smile. He talks about the bar. Unnecessarily, he points out all the PBR

MUSIC

Taking Care Of Us Canadian rap superstar showcases sensitive side on sophomore effort. By Gwendolyn Lewis

drake Take Care Sounds Like: The soundtrack to your subconscious 99-Cent Download: “Over

My Dead Body”

ing, constant base. Then, Rihanna returns with her flavor, singing the chorus. Throughout the album Drake sprinkles recollections of the women he let get away and those he will go back for after he matures. Maybe it's his mom or aunt he sensitively speaks of in the song “Look What You’ve Done for Me.” Regardless of who these women are, they're responsible for the album’s confessional ballads

about family and love that serve as insights or anthems for any boy who is becoming a man. In songs like “Over My Dead Body,” “Underground Kings” and “The Ride,” Drake talks about what he has done to overcome his personal struggles and make a name for himself in the music industry. He doesn't dwell on regret or negativity. He also dismisses the disses from those who don’t believe in him, instead drawing attention to his expectations for the future.

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34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

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Take Care is centered around audience awareness. Drake recognizes what his fans need and want to hear. Then he reveals things about himself to which they can relate. Drake is “taking care” of his listeners by sharing his knowledge and experiences that can teach us lessons about our own lives. On the title track Rihanna sings, “If you let me, here’s what I’ll do: I’ll take care of you. I’ve loved and I’ve lost.” That one line is the album’s purpose in a nutshell.

Good For: Candle–lit

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Drake uses his falsetto to sing over soft string instruments. He raps slowly and poetically over piano chords. Drums patter in the background to add variation to the otherwise somber melodies and computer generated sound effects. Drake even collaborates with powerhouse Stevie Wonder, who closes the song “Doing It Wrong” with a seductive and relaxing harmonica solo, transporting the listener into what feels like a dimly lit jazz club. A few upbeat songs dot the album, though even these don't fall for cliches either. The title track, “Take Care,” featuring Rihanna, is a dance song with a hint of the Caribbean. Drake glides from singing to rapping as the piano and drums speed and slow. It abruptly switches from disco to tribal as a voice chants words over a fist pump-

e discovered him on mixtapes and became believers when he rose up from underground and dominated the radio, collaborating with just about every R&B and hip–hop artist that is considered “hot.” He landed the number one spot on Billboard within one week of the release of his first studio album, Thank Me Later, in 2010. And now Canadian rapper Drake has another accomplishment: his sophomore LP, Take Care. It's 17 tracks of light–a–candle, sit–in–the–dark and zone– out music with head nodding beats and collaborations with Lil’ Wayne, Rihanna, Rick Ross, Andre 3000 and the Weekend. Once again, Drake resists the hardcore “resident rapper” stereotype. Take Care sounds less like hip–hop and more like a cross between R&B and pop.

FR E

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Sojung Lee, Engineering Grad Student Listening to: Untitled Track — Lucid Fall “It's underground Korean classical music. I like it because it's quiet and nice to walk to. "

Allie Rivera, Wharton ‘13 Listening to: “Replay” — Iyaz “It puts me in a good mood; it’s really upbeat.”

Eric Schwartz, College ‘14 Listening to: “Collie Man” — Slightly Stoopid “It’s happy music, something to listen to on a cold day. It can bring you back to summer.”

Photos by Adrian Franco

Amelia Wilson, Wharton ‘13 Listening to: “Heavy Pop” — WU LYF “It’s a good fall song, nice to walk around campus to.”

ONE TRACK MIND: “LONELY BOY," The Black Keys

s bands grow older, they often lose their luster — that special thing we loved about them. The Strokes have yet to recapture their early–aughts greatness; the same can be said for the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But "Lonely Boy," the first single from the Black Keys’ upcoming seventh studio album, El Camino, is proof that time and fame haven’t

eroded this band’s ability to craft a catchy blues–rock hit. A brief guitar growl quickly opens up into the band’s signature style: a fuzzy blues/surf–rock guitar riff backed by a pounding, danceable drumbeat. Dan Auerbach’s lovelorn verse wails throughout, bemoaning unrequited love while getting in his ex–girlfriend potshots: “Well your

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

BEATS ON THE STREET

mama kept you but your daddy left you, and I should have done you just the same.” If the lead single is any indication, you better be ready to blast this album with the top down in the badass, quintessentially American car of your choice — preferably an El Camino. The album drops December 6th. —Ben Bernstein

MUSICAL NOTES:

When Streaming Went Social But there is something artificial about it. Facebook feeds show friends playing songs. But if not for the social component, would these songs be played? The integration of Facebook and Spotify has inserted a subconscious censorship to the listening process. At the end of the day, Spotify itself interests me more than the 65 songs you played on it. I’m into the service. More access to more music, for free. Now, Spotify’s streaming services are available on another website. So go ahead, stream on Facebook. Stream everywhere. In that sense, Spotify is spot on. —Emily Orrson

Submit your Shoutouts by Nov. 23 to shoutouts@34st.com

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34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

Facebook wants our religious views. Our hometowns, the languages we know. It wants our relationship statuses, our favorite movies — and now it wants our soundtracks. With the September integration of Facebook and music streaming services like Spotify, Mog, Rdio and Slacker, music streaming has gone social. And I can’t help but feel a little defensive. Music, for me, is personal. For listening, not broadcasting. For collecting, not advertising. To its credit, Spotify has revolutionized word of mouth. The verbal has gone viral. I don’t need to run into you to hear what you’re listening to.

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

ARTS

SIP & PONDER

Eco–artist Susan Benarcik fills the Random Tea Room and Curiosity Shop in NoLibs with a plethora of pretty trinkets. BY EILLIE ANZILOTTI

f you were to walk into the Random Tea Room and Curiosity Shop on a given day, you might leave without even noticing an art exhibit on display, a testament to how well Susan Benarcik’s show, "Natural Curiosities," blends into the atmosphere of the tiny shop. Filled with knickknacks, mismatched chairs and china, coupled with probably the best chai tea in a 50–mile radius, The Random Tea Room is the kind of place that would incite fainting spells in any Jane Austen lover. With an emphasis on environmental consciousness, New York City–based Benarcik

creates delicate sculptural pieces from both recycled and newly manufactured sustainable materials. The results — insect– like creatures and flowers that wouldn’t look out of place in the world of Tim Burton’s animation — hang from the shop walls. In neutral earthy tones, they don’t call attention to themselves, but instead complement the shop’s decor. The Random Tea Room is called a curiosity shop for a reason, and curiosity will grant you access to even more of Benarcik’s work. Many of her pieces are scattered and hidden around the shop and take some explora-

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

Natural Pattern, courtesy of philaopenstudios.com

natural curiosities The Random Tea Room and Curiosity Shop 713 N. 4th St. Now – 11/18 Tues–Sun, 10 a.m.–10 p.m. (267) 639–2442 therandomtearoom.com

tion to discover. But an inquiring mind will be rewarded with an intricate collection of paper collages tucked into a folder and waiting for you to pick them up and examine them. Far from being dismissible as glorified stationery, Benarcik’s careful combinations of old– fashioned maps, floral patterns and illustrations are every bit as beautifully unassuming as her sculptures. It’s that lack of presumption that’s most striking about Benarcik’s work. She’s not out there to shock you or to force you into intellectual discussions about her “art.” Sure, she’s working under her umbrella

Photo by Eillie Anzilotti

theme of eco–awareness but, most importantly, her work is pretty. And in an artistic world that’s so focused on concept, sometimes to the point that actual craft is sacrificed, the unapologetic beauty of "Natural Curiosities" is quite a relief. Benarcik’s work will be on display through November 18, but regardless, the Tea Room

is a great place to go if you’re stressed and don’t mind the trek up to Northern Liberties for an escape. Order a cup of tea, play with the pet bulldog or get a massage. (Yes, there is a massage room attached to the shop.) And keep an eye open for all of the art surrounding you. You may be surprised by what you find.

Quintin Marcus Check out an extended interview and images of Quintin Marcus’s most recent work on his ARTIST PROFILE at 34st.com

Bathroom Stall 1

winner’s awesome–tastic room (see below), check out this vinyl bookend, cheap and easy to make in five quick steps. Besides, your bookshelf could use a little eclectic favor… other than those summer–reading books from high school that you pretend are for leisure. We see right through you. BY MEGAN RUBEN AND ELLIE LEVITT 1. Boil water in a large pot and pour into wide–set container.

2. Submerge vinyl in boiling water up to the bottom of the label and bend it as it softens.

3. Remove the vinyl from the water and flatten it with a spatula.

4. Glue felt to the bottom to avoid scratching furniture.

WINNER:

Ryan Engel This College senior’s room is bursting with U2 paraphernalia, trinkets from world–traveling and some antique gems handed down from family members. Let the space’s warm tones — made warmer by more candles than we’ve ever seen — draw you in from the November cold. Check 34st.com for a video of Ryan giving a CRIBZ tour of his pad. We hear wine’s included.

• 2 vinyls ($1 each) • Felt ($5.49) • Glue ($1.50) • Scissors • Spatula

• Wide–set container (wider than a vinyl and able to hold boiling water)

5. Spice up that bookshelf! We’ll see ya at the next Cribz contest.

Photos by Megan Ruben

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

PENN CRIB

Materials:

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

DIY: CRIBZ STYLE Fear not, campus–dweller! If you’re feeling a little intimidated by our contest

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

LOWBROW

THANK YOU, COME AGAIN This Thanksgiving dinner, Lowbrow will be thinking about many things during Grace: midnight strolls through the BioPond, Swedish Fish, pterodactyl porn, world peace, and people who send us raunchy Shoutouts from their school emails (hey, Julian). But if you were wondering what others on campus are thankful for, look no further. (You're welcome.)

McDonald’s: for PhiDi shutting down.

Unoriginal social chairs: for the Occupy movement.

Chickens: for turkeys. Turkeys: for vegetarians. The LOVE statue’s PG rating: for Ben Franklin’s PG–13 and The Button’s R.

You: for the relief provided to you at Van Pelt’s bathroom by Michael Zinman.

Wonderbread: for Penn football games.

My father: for nothing.

Sperries: for PhiDelt. Leggings: for JAPs.

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

Jorts: for white trash parties.

“Not Penn State” shirt sales: for Penn State. Four: for Glenn Coco. (You go, Glenn Coco!)

Freshmen: for Copa Wednesdays. Mask & Wig: for Bloomers.

Penn students with Twitters: for #firstworldproblems. Nosy Jewish mothers: for Foursquare.

Penn Dental School: for The Bachelorette.

Procrastinating Penn students: for advance registration.

Insecure seniors: for Cultural Elite.

Walk–of– shamers: for a repaved Locust.

Everyone: for Shoutouts.

In (dis)honor of Thanksgiving, Lowbrow’s provided a cornucopia of ways to smooth–talk your Pocahontas or John Smith. 1. Is that a wigwam in your pants or are you just happy to see me? 2. I have something for you to gobble on. 3. This restaurant seems to be full, but I have another reservation. 4. I wanna ride you like a Grand Cherokee. 5. There’s nothing small about my pox. 6. Are you a Nava– hoe? No? Oh, sorry. Honest mistake. So Sioux me!

8. Call me Mr. Pilgrim. I can make your Plymouth Rock. 9. Is your name Humps–Like–A–Coyote–In–Heat? Because you seem like you’d hump like a coyote in heat. 10. Can I suck yo’ jawea?

Dear Roommate*, You don’t do laundry. Fine, I’ll just buy extra Febreze. You sexile me at least twice a week. No biggie, the couch in the living room is pretty comfortable. But don’t eat my fucking food; that’s where I draw the line. You think I don’t see the bag of tortilla chips sticking out of your drawer? The trail of crumbs leading to your bed or the salsa stains on your sheets? You don’t need Sherlock Holmes to solve this mystery. I can look over the fact that your drunk self eats my Greek Lady leftovers. And that you munch on my Hot Pockets when you’re high. But forgive me if I get mad when you consciously and blatantly steal from me when you’re sober. No, I don’t remember telling you that you can help yourself to my snacks, so don’t put words in my mouth or my food in yours.

gimme that toot toot. gimme that beep beep.

Passive–agresssively yours, The guy sleeping on the couch downstairs *Note my use of roommate and not friend. Friends don’t eat friends’ food.

Hey Friend, Look, I was nice enough to only snack on your Corn Pops during your three–hour block of classes on Mondays and Wednesdays; I even put them back exactly where I found them and brushed my teeth right after so you wouldn’t smell ‘em on my breath. But then one day you decided to skip Ancient Greece and walked in on me mid–feast. The nerve. If you flaunt your pudding cups and granola bars, shit’s gonna get eaten. You’re only enabling me by buying every flavor of Goldfish ever invented. I obviously need to try each one. And what was that stash of Swedish Fish doing in your underwear drawer anyway? Did you really think I wouldn’t find them? For someone who should really watch their calories more (Entenmann’s doughnuts again? Really?), you should thank me for helping jump start your much–needed diet. So yeah, I admit it, I eat your food. You can stop hiding it now.

Hungrily yours, Snackary P.S You’re out of Oreos. Can you get Double–Stuffed? They taste better.

Disclaimer: And if you was suspicious, all this shiz is fictitious.

34TH STREET Magazine November 17, 2011

7. You look like you could use some stuffing.

and a rebuttal!

We here at Street are thankful for R. Kelly and his beautiful way with words.

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There are two types of people at Penn: Those who read Shoutouts and those who can’t read. Shoutouts are a universal holiday commemorating the 99% literacy rate in America. Imagine, if you will, a Thanksgiving that offends everyone equally; a Christmas unexploited by Hallmark; a Hannukah that includes that other 10% of campus; a Kwanzaa understood by all; and a New Year’s that happens twice a year. Yeah, Shoutouts. Here’s how some of us celebrated in the past few years. To the only other person who’s had sex under the Button, on the Button, through a hole in the Button, on top of the Love sculpture, in the Blarney bathroom, at the top of 38th Street bridge and on the 8th floor of Huntsman: What a fucking year. Happy Anniversary, baby!

To the unfortunate girl at the black light party on 40th: Sorry, I didn’t know cum shows up on skin.

To the girls with the stripper pole right by your window: Just know that we skip Shabbat dinner every week to watch your sexy Friday night show. Keep it up, because we sure are. Love, AEPi.

To my roommate’s long–distance boyfriend: Please come back soon so she’ll shave her legs.

Submit your Shoutouts to shoutouts@34st.com or in the anonymous submission box at the top of Under The Button by November 23.